


erase/rewind

by orphan_account



Category: Mawaru Penguindrum
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abandoning their old world was their punishment. They could never go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	erase/rewind

_Chop, chop, chop._  
  
Sun had poured into the small kitchen, the only source of light for the young man preparing lunch. He cut vegetables with precision, gaze not leaving the counter as he sliced and diced and soon had all that he needed, wiping the knife off and sighing, at a loss for what he had to do next. He hummed, finding his place mentally and moving on to the next item.   
  
Footsteps went through the apartment and the other emerged, yawning, having woken up far too late (though it really didn’t matter, given it was the weekend). The pace slowed and then stopped, arms going around a waist and a chin tucked against a shoulder.  
  
“Smells good. What are you making?”   
  
“Not telling.”   
  
A sigh. There was a small chuckle, movements eventually stopping. All Shouma could do was gaze at the pot as it boiled, Kanba’s hold on him tightening a little once he caught sight of his expression. There was a smile on his face, but he looked somber. He knew how difficult it was for him, still. Even he feels that pang in his side when he thinks about her, when he thinks about how they should be eating a meal with her, laughing with her.  
  
“Himari’s happy,” Kanba stated, his words sure and solid. There was no room for wavering confidence. He knew that she was happy. Probably married by now, with children of her own. They were on the other side of town, finally growing into their own again, years behind the rest whom they had left behind. They remembered every detail slowly but surely. They felt every heartbreak as if it had just happened.   
  
That was their punishment.  
  
A prolonged silence went between them. Kanba didn’t move. Shouma didn’t want him to, but that was fairly obvious. They had been inseparable since the end (or the beginning of their new life, Kanba reasoned) between them and Himari. Never did they stray too far apart or for too long. Night after night, they’d come back to each other, fingers interlocked, breathing each other in.   
  
Eventually, Shouma reached and tapped an arm, the small cue for Kanba to move away. Lunch was ready, plates were being set up. Food was served. There was a comfortable air to their meals. Kanba would reach over, steal a bite of the same dish he had. Shouma would do the same, offer a bite to feed him. One time, when he did it, Kanba said they were like a married couple, which sent Shouma over the edge. He blushed and hid and wouldn’t come out for thirty minutes. His face had still been red even when he had — and, of course, he was still teased about it.   
  
The meal came and went. Kanba cracked a few jokes, talked about work from the previous night. It wasn’t anything Shouma hadn’t heard before — he knew the other just wanted to pass time and forget about their worries. It worked like a charm, Shouma getting caught up and even taking extra time before he moved to wash the dishes and clean up. Even then, Kanba trailed after and leaned close, even helped out with drying the bowls.   
  
When the last one came his way, Kanba held Shouma’s hand. Silence overwhelmed the two once more, the laughter of kids playing outside the complex the only thing they could hear from the kitchen window. Shouma’s gaze traveled to their hands, frozen in position. Kanba’s free hand took the bowl and set it aside, squeezing the warm hand in his own. When his eyes met the other’s, he breathed in, eyebrows furrowing.   
  
Before he could jerk his hand away, Kanba pulled him in close, holding him tightly. His hands immediately dug into his arms, his face buried into the crook of his shoulder. His emotions were strained ever since he set his sights onto the calendar that morning, ever since he had to make breakfast for himself and lunch for two. Ever since he had to be reminded that Himari wasn’t a part of their world, not even on her birthday, he felt strained and weighed down. Kanba only pulled him up out of his own drowning, not anchoring him, but freeing him, giving him that support he needed. He let out a soft cry, muffling it, not wanting Kanba to hear it since that would only make things worse.   
  
“It’s all right, Shouma,” he whispered, a hand coming to soothe him, running through his hair. It reminded him of those nights when he’d scoot closer in their shared futon as kids, when Shouma would cling and cry in the middle of the night as he started remembering the things he wished he could forget. Even then, he’d hold and calm him down, tell him it’s okay. Shouma would shake, tell him it wasn’t, that this was all his fault. He was the burden that separated what could have been between all of them. Even if it had saved Himari, he wished it never had happened. If it wasn’t for him, she would never have been cursed.  
  
Before he could even say anything, Kanba was moving to cup his face. A kiss was pressed to his lips and he stuck close, hearing the other slowly calm down.   
  
“It’s not your fault.”  
  
Shouma opened his eyes, looking back at Kanba once more. His gaze was as serious and his voice was as confident as it had been about Himari being happy. He was always so sure. He had so much faith in just his words, just what he could find in himself to believe. Kanba was convincing enough. He had always convinced him and made him believe in what could be possible, even from when they first met.  
  
Eventually, a small smile was cracked and he nodded. Of course. Kanba was always right. When he smiled, so did Kanba, relieved but not letting on just how much he was. If he did, the illusion was broken. Neither of them could afford that.  
  
A sigh escaped Shouma as he fully calmed down. He needed the reassurance from the other every now and again. He wrapped his arms around Kanba and pressed forth for his kiss in return, lingering. The bowl laid forgotten as he became wrapped up in Kanba’s presence, positions shifted and moved as he ended up tugged along, their bedroom door pulled shut and a few soft laughs of his own escaping him.  
  
Kanba traced shapes on Shouma’s sensitive skin in the glow of a weekend afternoon. His breathing was easy, his head tilted to the side as he huddled close. Legs were entangled and fit together perfectly. Fingers interlocked and squeezed tightly. All that needed to be forgotten was.  
  
What they needed was right before them and nothing, not even fate, could take that away from them.


End file.
